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My eyes pop wide open. "If you get six thousand, how much does head bitch in charge get?"
"Christine gets a cut, but for everyone it's a different price. It really depends on how long you've been doing it, what you do, that sort of thing. Last night cost the client six thousand, and he pays for everything too."
"I just don't understand why he would pay so much for that. It blows my mind."
She yawns, and I'm starting to feel bad for waking her up. "The clients of Sanctuary Cove know what they're getting, so they know their money is being well spent. Do I look like a hooker to you? No. It's an illusion they're after and we're paid top dollar to give it. Ludacris said it perfectly—men want a lady on the streets but a freak in the sheets. The girls are clean and we’re totally discreet."
"When's your next date?"
"Tonight. I have to get naked while the client plays his guitar in front of me."
"And then have sex?"
"No, he just wants someone to be his muse while he writes songs. I can't tell you who it is, but he's a heavy hitter in the entertainment industry and filthy rich. You'd die if you knew. I was starstruck at first."
My jaw drops in shock. I'm still staring out the window hoping to see the champagne Jag pull up.
"If I guess, will you tell me?"
"Nope." She chuckles. "He's hot as sin though and has requested me a few times now. We've yet to have sex, but let me tell you, our chemistry is off the charts. He’s younger than most men at Sanctuary and in great shape. He's got tattoos on both arms. And the way he looks at my body while he strums his guitar, I swear he can read my soul. One of these days we're going to fuck, and it’s going to be insanely hot." She sighs, and I swear I can hear longing in her voice.
"I thought you weren't supposed to get close to the clients."
"Aubrey." She clears her throat, and I hear her blankets ruffle. I think she's sitting up. "When you fucked the guy in the bathroom on your birthday, were you close to him?"
"Well, no."
"Did you bang him because you thought he was hot?"
"Yeah."
"So how is this any different? The only difference is that I’m getting paid for it, and honestly, who cares if no one knows anyway? Just because I want this musician to put me out of my misery doesn't mean I need to be emotionally or romantically attached to him. I just want to see if he's as good as he puts off. I want to know what he feels like inside of me. Coming isn’t a top priority—the client always comes first, figuratively speaking—but I'd still want to if I could."
I pull back, utterly confused. "Wait. What? What do you mean you can't come? How do you hold back?"
"That's a rule of Madam Christine's. We're not allowed to have any sort of pleasure until after the client is fully sated, not that you'll really want it anyway because you'll be so focused on rocking their world for that cash. It's just not that easy when the pressure is on. You have to create the best experience for the client. Give them a moment they'll never forget. I know some girls who are so good at it they charge two grand an hour. Hashtag goals."
I blink rapidly. What the fuck does someone do for that kind of money? My head is spinning with all the information Natalie keeps throwing at me. I have even more questions than I started with. It never crossed my mind that the girls wouldn't reach climax. I just assumed they did. On one hand I'm okay with that. It helps me believe that my self-respect is still intact. On the other hand, I'd feel dirty, used, because I know myself and I'll probably end up orgasming.
"So you've never had an orgasm with a client? Not once?"
"Oh I have plenty of times, just not always. You're not going to be able to every time. The clients are not what you think, and they expect you to do all the work. It's what they're paying you for, after all."
"And you can charge two thousand dollars an hour? I call bullshit. What call girl charges that kind of money anyway?"
"She has a three-hour minimum and requires thirty percent down first," Natalie states.
I'm speechless now, but wondering why I'm so hesitant to give this a shot. That's big money right there, and I suddenly want a piece of it.
"Nat?" I say after a few beats of silence. My voice is a little shaky because I'm about to sell my soul to the Devil.
"Real recognizes real," she says with such a heavy Bronx accent in the back of her throat. "Say no more. I got you, girl."
Twelve
"I quit!" I yell as I walk into our apartment and slam the door shut. It's after midnight and I have to be up early for class in the morning and I'm just now getting home. I don't even have time to shower because I need the rest.
"I almost put out an Amber Alert for you. What the fuck happened?" Natalie takes a sip from her coffee mug and I chuckle under my breath. I’M A HOOKER ON THE WEEKENDS is printed in bold black and red lettering on the side of her mug.
